


Somewhere Between Our Hot Chocolate, I Fell In Love

by kangelique



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 04:32:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15405045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kangelique/pseuds/kangelique
Summary: One shot of Katniss and Peeta after the war.





	Somewhere Between Our Hot Chocolate, I Fell In Love

**Somewhere In Between Our Hot Chocolate, I Fell In Love**

When I first saw him, I ran. Just the sight of him, scarred as he was, sparked up something inside me that I hadn't felt in months. I blamed the war because it had done this to me, to her, and to him. We would both always have this sort of emptiness from everything we witnessed. I would know, because she only ever accompanied me in my nightmares now at night, and I would wake up, name dying on my lips when the spot next to me wasn't filled with her small body, as it used to be when she curled up next to me when she was the one having bad dreams and I would soothe her into a better lull, guard immediately dropping when I saw those eyes closed in a peaceful sleep, except this time it was always me who needed soothing, needed her to sing to me that old engraved song I'd had forever even as bad her tone was when she tried to sing, needed her to tell me it was going to be okay despite how much of a lie it had been before she whispered " _It's going to be okay, Katniss..."_  

And all those moments came back when I saw him. He brought those moments back when for months it had been just me and a void, closing off those moments by the wall built up by my pain and sorrow. Only ti'll later would I understand that what he'd sparked up was feeling. Life, maybe. Air into what had stopped my lungs from breathing in Spring, but suddenly there was Spring right outside my window, looking as bright and waiting as ever. I actually let a small smile pass my face. Only brief, but it had passed either way. He didn't notice. And we ate our breakfast in silence. I smelled the scent before Greasy Sae set the two white mugs in front of us. Peeta took it, but I only stared at it for a few minutes, remembering how warm and inviting the liquid had been the first time on the train.

"It's hot chocolate, dear."

I nodded to her, slowly picking it up and bringing it to my lips, taking a sip and then another when the sweetness of it exploded in my mouth, and I quickly became greedy for more until there was nothing left, and I saw Peeta smile behind his mug, still plentiful because just like then, he was still slow to finish it, savoring it every time, so I asked for a refill. And for once I savored it too, until we both set our empty mugs down and then went our separate ways without any word, the taste of what he'd brought lingering.

 

                                           **.                     .                          .                      .                      .**

 

Our mugs quiet clatter on the counter as we put them down is the only sound in the house. I don't know what to do. Or what to say now that there is no silent drinking barrier between us, and he doesn't offer anything. He only stares out the window where night has already settled without us even noticing as we were so immersed in sitting there. It's weird. How time passed. It's different. A while back i could only look as the hours dragged in front of me, and the sun dipped and the moon left, and another day came and went past my grasp. Now I actually enjoyed what we were in. This has become the new normal. We sit and drink in a comfortable silence. And then it ends, and he goes to his house and I go to bed. The next he comes again at the same hour, bringing what we need to mix. I come to look forward to this hour. It's just us and our hot chocolate. We never say anything. I concentrate on the brown liquid below me and he seems to do the same. 

Sometimes I'm lost in staring at his blond waves when he's looking down and can't see me observing at the way they fall over his forehead, covering the cowlick scar that will always be there as a reminder. I relish in how soft they look, messy and unkempt as they are, outgrown on his head because as the weeks pass they seem to grow longer. Sometimes I wish he'd looked up at the same time I was looking at him so that our eyes would meet, and I would get to see his blue ones. Those never changed. Still the same blue from our childhood. It reminds me when we were little and those would be the bright blue I saw in class every day. Only then I wouldn't pay much attention to them. Or maybe I always had. Maybe I always did before we even came to speak to each other. Yet now I find myself wishing he would look up for whatever reason that I don't know, can't pinpoint. But he doesn't. And I don't say anything in regards to it.

We continue like this. And I don't think of changing it. So when he gets up, I do too. I know I'm tired, and the circles under his eyes give away how much he hasn't been sleeping. It's not me that reaches over to grab his arm and then almost immediately recoil back. It's someone else. And it's not me when the words leave my mouth, too low that it's a whisper. But it is me.

"Katniss?"

"Will you,um..." I search for the words. "Stay with me?"

For a minute I think he didn't hear me. For a minute I see confusion in his face, and I don't know what to do. I just stand there awkwardly, cheeks beginning to burn at the words left in the air. But then he nods, and I'm at a loss for what comes after that. I don't move. But I do feel him gently take my hand in his, so light that our palms are barely touching, but it's a sign for me to show him the way. He already knows the way, of course. But still he lets me guide the way up to my room. We still don't speak even as I crawl onto the bed and he pulls back the covers. Then he slides in next to me, and I think he probably needed this as much as I do because he breathes a cautious content sigh once my head is on his chest, arm around his waist while his is over my shoulder, keeping me close the way we did in the cave and train. I hold in my own sigh of relief when I hear his heart thumping to a steady beat under my ear that slowly becomes more relaxed as it lulls me to sleep with his chest rising up and down showing me he's already fallen. At one point in the night, I wake up and I can still smell the hot chocolate on his breath. And then I close my eyes until it's dawn.

**.           .         .        .              .**

 

The graveyard is full of them. Peeta and I stand before the headstones, his hand wrapped tightly in mine as we both look at all the gray in between the bright green grass that makes the whole place seem off. But at the same time I like the bright green grass. It brings my favorite color to the one place that leaves me feeling numb after. For a while. Because my district is here. My friend is here. They're all buried right there underneath where we're standing. And I think how on any chance that could have been us too. But we're alive. It's hard to find her's, but we do. It's probably taken us an hour, but I don't feel it. I just watch Peeta bend down to drop a single primrose on the headstone marked for her, and then he leaves me with a small kiss to the top of my head to go walk further down. This is when he thinks most of his family. I let him take his time just as he lets me.

My voice trembles.

"Prim," It still hurts to say her name. "I'm going to have a baby. And..." I let out a small half-hearted chuckle. "I know I thought I would never have kids, but he convinced me. I'm scared. I still haven't told mom yet. We plan on calling her soon, but I wish you could be here as we tell her the news. She's still going to know about her aunt," My face breaks into a smile even as more tears roll down faster. "It's a girl. I'm having a girl, Prim. Peeta actually cried when we found out," I touch my growing bump that has only begun to show. "I miss you."

The walk home is quiet. I'm okay with it. Peeta goes in, but I stay outside, needing the time to just stare at the sky as I settle on my porch steps and let the fresh breeze grace my skin for a little bit as it also whips my hair around. I wear my hair down more often now, but today it's the braid. The weather is quickly becoming chilly as the time for dinner comes closer, and I know I can't stay out here for long without a sweater or a blanket. But he as always thinks ahead and emerges with two steaming mugs, and a blanket that I help spread over the two of us as he comes to sit down beside me. I lean my head on his shoulder as we watch the sun begin to go down for the day. His fingers still play with the end of my braid even as he sips with his mug in one hand and his other arm around me.

It's peaceful. And I think that our child will also enjoy this someday. The three of us watching the sun go down, drinking hot chocolate in late September.

 

                                                          **.             .                .              .           .**

 

In truth, it still scares me. I can't protect her as she goes off to school. But when she comes home, I'm filled with an immense relief every time. It scares me more because she grows right before my eyes. Her blue eyes shine bright. No pain. No terror. No hunger. And her dark hair matches mine back in my more younger years. She's beautiful. And she has a fire in her that Peeta likes to tease me about, that we will have trouble with her in her teenage years because of it. But for now we're in the safe. Haymitch, the old bag, likes to point it out to me too. Today he joins us for dinner. We've all grown quite fond of the hot chocolate, and we have it almost every other night together. Willow likes to call it our tradition, despite how Rye has developed a weird favor for tea but likes the hot chocolate all the same. Even the old man helps himself to some, even as he openly pours a bit of liquor into it and both Peeta and I just look at him,  and he just shrugs in return. 

Then it's the next day. The next years. And we watch our girl and boy head off to school and come back in the afternoon. I smile to Peeta. He leans in once they've entered our house, feet thundering as they go up the stairs to go change out of their school clothes into something more clean from the gathered stains spilled from the time they were away. And when he kisses me, I kiss him back with a happiness I only ever dreamed of. Yet he reminds me it's not a dream and that the hot chocolate is waiting for us once we step in. So we do.

**The end.**


End file.
